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On Viol and Flute

By Edmund W. Gosse
  
  
  

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 X. 
 XI. 
 XII. 
XII. A GARDEN-PIECE.
 XIII. 
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 XV. 
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 XVII. 
 XVIII. 
 XIX. 
 XX. 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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30

XII. A GARDEN-PIECE.

Among the flowers of summer-time she stood,
And underneath the films and blossoms shone
Her face, like some pomegranate strangely grown
To ripe magnificence in solitude;
The wanton winds, deft whisperers, had strewed
Her shoulders with her shining hair outblown,
And dyed her breast with many a changing tone
Of silvery green, and all the hues that brood
Among the flowers;
She raised her arm up for her dove to know
That he might preen him on her lovely head;
Then I, unseen, and rising on tip-toe,
Bowed over the rose-barrier, and lo!
Touched not her arm, but kissed her lips instead,
Among the flowers!